"My eyes see different tokens; they are more versed in business than yours are—naturally."
"What do your eyes see?"—a little impatiently.
"You may notice that nothing is out of order. There is no bit of fence out of repair; and never a gate hanging upon its hinges. There is no carelessness. Do you observe the neatness of this broad street?"
"What should make it unneat? with so few travellers?"
"Ground is the last thing to keep itself in order. I notice, too, the neat stacks of wood in the wood-sheds. And in the fields we have passed, the work is all done, up to the minute; nothing hanging by the eyelids. The houses are full of windows, and all of them shining bright."
"You might be a newspaper reporter, George! Is this the house we are coming to? It is quite a large house; quite respectable."
"Did you think that little girl had come out of any but a respectable house?"
"Pshaw, George! you know what I mean. They are very poor and very plain people. I suppose we might go straight in?"
They dismissed their vehicle, so burning their ships, and knocked at the front door. A moment after it was opened by Charity. Her tall figure was arrayed in a homely print gown, of no particular fashion; a little shawl was over her shoulders, notwithstanding the heat, and on her head a sun-bonnet.
"Does Miss Lothrop live here?"